Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Twenty-Six

I waited in the bus line. It was honestly kind of strange being back in the Muggle world. There were at least a dozen things in a four-foot radius from me that Mr. Weasley would've gone nuts over. The cellphone that the man in front of me was chattering away on, for instance, or even the clothes on the people here.

I let my mind wander. I already missed Harry, Ron, and especially Hermione, even though it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. I also missed Jab, whom I'd been forced to leave behind with my grandmother. I hoped she wouldn't forget to feed him and take care of the summer, because I never would forgive her if I returned for fourth year to find a dead Jarvey.

I was also exhausted from the jet lag, unused to being back to Eastern Standard Time. I was planning on sleeping on the bus all the way back to camp.

I'd arrived in Washington, D.C. to find that my layover flight to New York had been cancelled last-minute. The people at the airport gave me a reimbursement, but I still had somewhere to be, so they suggested I either find another flight or take a bus or a train. I wanted to get to Camp as soon as possible, so I decided to take a bus. Along the way, maybe I would find some half-bloods in need of help.

I fantasized arriving at camp, bloodied and black-eyed, but maintaining a firm hold on a new camper. We crossed the boundary line, and the monsters pursuing us hissed threateningly, but they wouldn't stand a chance. The new camper raises his head and looks at me. He has pitch black hair and green eyes. At first I thought it was Harry, but then I realised that this boy's eyes weren't the same striking emerald as Harry's. They were more of a sea green. He looked at me tiredly, but triumphant, and said, "And see the world in endless sleep, the Hero's soul cursed blade shall reap."

"What?" I replied, but the vision was gone. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed my momentary space-out. Had I just prophesied or something? I wasn't an Oracle. I wasn't even that serious about Divination -- I spent more time making fun of the Divination teacher than Divination itself.

Someone slammed into me from behind, knocking me out of my thoughts. I'd left my duffle bag open to be able to pull out my active bow, so everything in it went spilling out, and I was knocked to the pavement.

"What the--" I muttered. I looked up to see who'd knocked me over. A boy about my age with blue eyes and sandy colored hair was on his knees a few feet away from me.

"Sorry," he said. "I can help..." His eyes landed on my bow, and I could tell he could see it for what it really was.

"I'm on my way to an archery competition," I blurted out. It was obvious that he doesn't believe me, and why should he? Most mortal bows are compound bows, with pulleys meant to help with shooting the bow while requiring less force. Mortal recurve bows made of sturdy wood or metal, with nylon or corded bowstrings, sometimes with rubber finger guides. But mine was like a huge crescent moon made from wood and coated in Celestial Bronze, with a bowstring made from small strings of Celestial Bronze woven together into a strong cord. It didn't have rubber finger guide.

In other words, it was obviously a lethal weapon.

I really should have kept it as a keychain.

The boy looked at me suspiciously. He didn't say anything else as he helped me gather the rest of my stuff. Then he walked over to two girls, both younger, standing in line for a bus that was headed for Richmond, Virginia. One of them had choppy black hair and a Green Day T-Shirt. She had this punk sort of look about her, even though she couldn't have been more than twelve. The other girl looked about seven and had curly blonde hair and startling grey eyes. It almost broke my heart seeing her surveying the other people at the bus stop with the alertness you'd expect from the guard of a maximum-security prisoner.